


New Year's Eve

by Dazzlious



Series: Christmas Stories [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzlious/pseuds/Dazzlious
Summary: A New Year’s Eve party and kissing — what could possibly go wrong?





	1. New Year’s Eve 2000

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, just when you thought it was all over for the year, here’s my final story for the 2017 festive season. Over the next 3 days join the Hogwarts alumni as they take on New Year’s Eve at university. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks to Mamacita, as always, for sorting out my punctuation.
> 
> Happy New Year everyone! Dx

 

 

Hermione sighed as she looked down at the party dress she was wearing. If she had her choice she would be in her pyjamas right now, curled up on the sofa reading a good book with a glass of wine and some chocolate instead of getting ready to go out to a party she didn’t even want to attend.

But Harry and Ron had been insistent, reminding her that it was their first year at university and that even she couldn’t stay at home on New Year’s Eve when there was a party to go to. It would be fun, they said. She would have a good time, they said. And, Hermione, who had sighed just as loudly then, had been unable to put up any defence they would accept in favour of staying in on her own.

Even the weather had conspired against her. Hermione had been hoping for snow, preferably of the thick and unnavigable variety that used to fall at Hogwarts every year, which would allow her to bow out of having to leave her flat, but so far there was no sign of anything even vaguely resembling the lightest shower. It was bloody cold out there but there was no sign of any white stuff other than a thick frost that nipped at the nose and ears, combined with a cold wind that made you wish you were indoors drinking hot chocolate rather than walking around in it.

She peered in the mirror, checking that her hair and makeup looked okay. She didn’t normally bother to wear much but she supposed that if there was any time to make an effort then it was tonight. After all, the party was supposed to be a good one — everyone who was anyone at the university would be there — and she, Harry and Ron were still famous for their work in defeating the Dark wizard, Voldemort, a task that had gained each of them an Order of Merlin First Class award and plenty of column inches in the newspapers over the last few years.

Hermione, like Harry, would have been happy to live down the fame, to try to subsist quietly and get on with her studies, but she was aware that Ron was enjoying the notoriety, milking it for all it was worth, and she and Harry were loath to ruin things for their dearest friend. During all the time she had known Ronald Bilius Weasley he had never had a chance to shine. He was always the wholly unremarkable younger brother or friend of the more famous Harry Potter; steadfast and loyal, certainly, but nothing special — until now. Now, he was a hero and it had boosted his self-confidence to unimaginable levels.

Originally, Ron and Harry had decided not to go back to Hogwarts to finish their schooling like Hermione had once the school reopened. Eager to assist in cleaning up after the war they, along with several other ex-Hogwarts students, had all joined the Ministry of Magic working alongside the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Aurors, determined to track down and capture as many of Voldemort’s old followers as they could. This had continued for a couple of years until most if not all of the Death Eaters had been rounded up and put on trial.

It was at this point that Kingsley had quietly suggested that the young Aurors should return to a learning environment in order to prepare themselves for the hard work ahead of them in their future careers. Hogwarts was out of the question as they were now far too old to return there, even had they wanted to. Instead, they were allocated places on a vocational course at the same university that Hermione and various others who had returned to Hogwarts were due to attend, and September had seen a considerable number of Hogwarts alumni descend upon the university located on the south coast.

Hermione had found a nice and modestly priced little one-bedroom flat not far from the university library, while her Auror friends shared a house on the other side of the campus nearer to the town and its extensive nightlife. Harry and Ron met up with her for lunch several times a week and quite often came to visit her at her flat during the evenings.

She was not quite so keen to visit them, as a group of boys living alone was not conducive to a tidy home, and she was always embarrassed when she turned up to find scantily clad young women wandering around the place seemingly without a care in the world and with absolutely no sense of propriety.

Hermione smoothed down the blue velvet dress one more time before turning away from the mirror to retrieve her shoes and handbag. Fortunately, the venue for the party was quite close so she didn’t have to worry too much about slipping on ice in her party shoes although she still put a gripping charm on them just to be on the safe side. As she grabbed her cloak Hermione looked at the clock. It was already almost eleven p.m., an hour later than she had agreed to meet her friends. No doubt they would be ready to come looking for her, knowing she hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.

Another sigh escaped Hermione’s lips as she wrapped the cloak around her almost dramatically, then left the flat, shivering as she stepped into the cold hallway that led to the front door. At least she only had to get through a couple of hours and then she could come home again. Knowing them, the Auror boys were probably already drunk so weren’t going to be much fun to be with, especially as she wasn’t interested in any of them manhandling her. They were all far too much like her brothers for that, but no doubt she would have to fend off at least one of them, particularly if they were pissed.

Hermione’s stomach tightened as she walked down the road, an image popping into her mind that automatically made her feel sick and ready to turn tail and run back home to the safety of isolation. There was a person from Hogwarts who she didn’t consider like a brother, and she was fairly certain he was going to be at the party tonight, too. Unfortunately, it was also fairly unlikely that he would give her more than a brief nod of acknowledgement, let alone get close enough to get intimate with her.

Draco Malfoy, now even more handsome than he had been at school, had also come to the university along with several of his Slytherin cronies, although his remaining troll-like bodyguard, Gregory Goyle, had been too stupid to make the grade. Draco, like Hermione, had returned to Hogwarts once the school had been rebuilt, as keen as she was to finish his education and attain his N.E.W.T.s.

He had changed considerably since the war and was no longer the swaggering ‘Prince’ of Slytherin but instead, a relatively quiet and studious young man who had, to Hermione’s great surprise, made an effort to seek her out and apologise profusely for what his aunt had done to her at Malfoy Manor during the war.

It was obvious that he felt bad for the part his family had played in Voldemort’s return to power, and Hermione was aware that his mother, and possibly even his father too, had defected to Harry’s side by the time the final battle came. This had made it far easier for her to forgive him knowing, too, that there was nothing Draco could have done to help her escape the torture Bellatrix Lestrange had inflicted upon her.

They had become companions of a sort, quite often partnering each other in the classes they shared despite her best friends’ continuing hatred for the blond Slytherin, and she had grown to like and even admire him. Despite his prejudiced background, Draco really was trying to change, and as far as Hermione was concerned, that was a good thing.

She had been pleased to discover that he, too, was going to university, although she was aware that with the return of her former Gryffindor classmates the dynamic would change somewhat. But like her, Draco was studying academic classes rather than the vocational ones her friends were enrolled in so she ended up sharing many classes with him and they had once again gravitated towards each other as class partners.

Hermione hated to admit it but she actually had a bit of a thing for Draco, although she kept it well hidden, particularly when Slytherin girls like Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass were still around to twist the knife and make her life a misery if they discovered her attraction. It was pointless, anyway.

Although Draco had changed she still couldn’t see him being attracted to her in return. There were too many years of ingrained hatred towards Muggles and Muggle-borns to overcome for him to feel truly comfortable with her and their own past was extremely chequered, to say the least.

Draco lived with his best friend, Blaise Zabini in an expensive apartment overlooking the seafront. Hermione had never been there but she knew where it was and how much it must be costing to rent, and occasionally when she was feeling particularly masochistic she considered what the décor would be like inside it.

She suspected that unlike the Auror boys who were, not to put too fine a point on it, a bunch of slobs, Draco and Blaise probably kept the place immaculate at all times, and she imagined grand dinner parties with fine food served on good quality china and expensive wines and champagne in crystal glasses rather than the beer and takeaways that Harry and the gang seemed to live on.

As far as she was aware Draco didn’t currently have a girlfriend, at least not a regular one, although both he and Blaise, who was as handsome as his friend, attracted the beautiful women of the university like flies and were rarely seen without several of them hanging around.

Hermione’s only satisfaction was that Pansy was no longer one of Draco’s favoured friends, something that the pug-faced young woman had taken very badly. In fact, Draco spoke to Hermione more than he spoke to Pansy these days, but that didn’t really mean anything except that they shared more classes.

She walked up the stairs to the front door of the house where the party was taking place. She could already hear music, loud and throbbing, exploding from the house through the open windows and door.

Several people were lounging around outside on the steps, most smoking although there were a few who were much the worse for wear and were being sick into the bushes underneath the lounge window. There were two small groups of young women who were clustered around crying friends, presumably comforting them after some breakup or argument with their possibly now ex-loved ones.

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes and sigh at the drama as she passed, her heart sinking even lower as she walked through the door and into the crowded hall. If the people in here were anything to go by, everyone was probably drunk by now as the party had started at seven.

With most people having no doubt spent the afternoon in one of the many pubs in the town, probably getting there as soon as they had opened at eleven that morning, she was going to have to deal with a bunch of drunken idiots reeking of booze while she was completely sober.

Hermione couldn’t help but wish she had downed half a bottle of vodka before coming to make the evening a little less painful, but she knew that had she done that she would never have come to the party at all.

Now she was here and she supposed she should try to find her friends regardless of what state they were in. She greeted several people she knew, a grim rictus of a smile on her face as she made her way through the hall and towards the lounge where it was most likely Harry, Ron and the other Auror boys would be.

The lounge was packed with hot, sweaty bodies gyrating to the deafening sound of the music and she peered through the darkened room trying to spot any of her friends. She stopped at one point and looked around her but soon began to move again when a lithe and sinewy man she didn’t know began to grind himself against her in time to the music.

‘Hermione!’

She heard the cry just a fraction of a second before Neville launched himself at her, wrapping his arms around her neck as he kissed her on the cheek. Hermione carefully removed herself from his grasp and studied him appraisingly as he swayed in front of her. Yep, he was pissed. As were the rest of them.

‘Here you go,’ Seamus said, handing Hermione a bottle.

She stared at it suspiciously for a moment, then realised it was beer. She took a small sip then, satisfied that it was what it appeared to be, she took a larger one.

‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ Harry asked, his voice slurring slightly as he and the rest of the Aurors joined her. ‘We’ve been here for hours.’

‘Yes, I can tell,’ she replied with amusement. ‘You’re all drunk.’

‘And I suppose you’re still stone cold sober, are you?’ Ron asked disapprovingly. ‘Why did it take you so long to get here? You only live round the corner.’

‘Because I had no desire to spend all evening in this place getting drunk,’ Hermione told him, shouting over the loud music. ‘You know I didn’t want to come in the first place. I’m only here because you insisted I couldn’t stay at home on New Year’s Eve.’

‘You missed a great session down the pub this afternoon,’ Ernie told her, moving in to talk to her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leaning on her for support. ‘Where were you?’

‘In the library, I expect,’ Ron said a touch snidely.

‘The library isn’t open on New Year’s Eve,’ Hermione pointed out as she extricated herself from Ernie. ‘Anyway, if I’d started drinking at lunchtime I’d have been fast asleep by now so you can’t have it all ways.’

‘Well, it’s grand to see you, so it is,’ Seamus said with a grin. ‘Nice dress. You look very posh.’

Hermione had already realised that she was completely overdressed for the party — that realisation had dawned before she even got through the door. Apparently, the party of the year was just another house party that no one had really bothered to dress up for. The few people not wearing normal clothes were in Christmas fancy dress or neon tutus, leg warmers and matching wigs, for some reason she didn’t understand.

It was going to be even worse than she feared, and she couldn’t even think about leaving for at least another hour — no one was going to let her go before midnight. She took another mouthful of her beer hoping it would help, but it didn’t. She was far too sober and way too overdressed and completely out of place in a party like this.

‘So what did you dress up for?’ Ron asked, swaying dangerously. ‘I mean, you look good but a bit out of place. We’re at a party, not going to the theatre.’ He snorted uproariously as if he had just told the best joke in the world.

Hermione stared at him coldly. ‘You and Harry told me this was going to be a good party so I assumed it would be something more refined, something a little less—’ She waved her hand around the room to indicate the drunken dancers and her friends who were all having trouble standing in one spot for more than a couple of seconds.

‘You need to let your hair down a bit, Hermione,’ Ron said. He took a swig from his bottle of beer, burped loudly, then grabbed a passing blonde, yanking her to him and giving her a passionate kiss which she seemed quite happy to accept. A moment later the two of them were snogging fiercely.

Hermione found herself unable to stop the expression of disgust that crossed her face.

‘Don’t worry, he’s only playing,’ Harry said in her ear as he swayed towards her, his eyes rolling. ‘He’s too pissed to do anything.’

‘You all are,’ Hermione pointed out.

‘Not me, darlin’,’ Dean said as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer with a wink. ‘I’m still good to go; if you know what I mean.’

Hermione shook her head in exasperation as she pushed him away. ‘Still not interested,’ she told him.

Dean shrugged but didn’t look surprised. ‘If you change your mind . . .’ he offered.

‘Do you want another drink?’ Harry asked.

‘She needs some shots,’ Ernie answered. ‘Loosen her up a bit.’

‘I don’t want to be loose,’ Hermione replied, agitation in her voice, ‘and I don’t think the rest of you need anything more to drink, either.’

‘Spoilsport,’ Ernie retorted.

‘At least have another drink,’ Harry suggested. ‘You’ve got a long way to go to catch up with us.’

‘I’ve got no intention of catching up with you,’ Hermione said, but she followed Ernie and Harry into the kitchen, leaving Ron still snogging the blonde.

‘You do look really nice tonight,’ Harry told her once they were out of the noise of the lounge.

‘I feel really out of place, though, Harry. I wish you’d told me it was just going to be a house party. I wouldn’t have made such an effort to dress up. Everyone keeps staring at me,’ she added unhappily.

‘That’s ‘cos you look so fine,’ Ernie said as he raised his bottle in a salute to her.

‘It doesn’t stop me feeling uncomfortable,’ Hermione pointed out.

She opened the bottle of wine she had brought with her, and eventually locating a clean glass she proceeded to fill it before leaving the bottle on the worktop with all the other drinks people had brought.

‘Here.’ Ernie gave her a small glass containing clear liquid before passing one to Harry. He was still holding one for himself.

‘What is that?’ Hermione asked suspiciously.

‘Sambucca, I think,’ Ernie said as he sniffed it, then held the glass out in a toast.

He and Harry clinked glasses and looked expectantly at Hermione. Resigned, she clinked glasses with them both, then downed the drink, coughing as the strong aniseed-flavoured liqueur burnt its way down her throat.

Ernie coughed too and whacked his chest hard several times. ‘Fuck, that’s some good stuff. Do you want another?’

‘Well, it’s cleared my sinuses, anyway,’ Hermione said, only just able to speak. She dropped the glass on the counter. ‘No more for me, thanks. I’ll stick to the wine.’

Harry held out his glass and Ernie poured them both another shot as Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

‘You’re a pair of idiots,’ she told them as they clinked glasses again. ‘Don’t expect me to help you when you end up with alcohol poisoning.’

Leaving her friends behind as she felt the sudden need for fresh air, Hermione made her way out of the back door and into the garden. She was immediately hit by a wall of smoke from those crowded around the door, all needing a cigarette but not wanting to go too far into the cold garden. She pushed her way through the group, desperate to find some space, pulling away from a tall, black-haired guy who tried to kiss her as she went past.

Finally out of the throng, Hermione relaxed as the cold, fresh air hit her and the noise subsided somewhat as she walked further down the long garden away from the house. Obviously, she couldn’t stay out here for too long as it was absolutely freezing, and she also really didn’t want her friends coming to find her and ruining the blissful peace she had discovered, but she could spend a few minutes out here alone — enough time, hopefully, to make her more amenable to the party going on back inside the house.

She stopped and took a deep breath, enjoying the cold air in her lungs, her head tilting upwards to look at the stars twinkling brightly in the night sky above her.

‘Nice outfit, Hermione, but I think you’re a bit overdressed for this place.’

Hermione turned to look at the man who had spoken. Draco and Blaise, both casually but immaculately dressed, were walking towards her, their acolytes following along close behind.

Hermione shrugged, trying to appear unperturbed. ‘Harry and Ron misrepresented the party to me. Had I realised jeans and a jumper would be more than sufficient I would have dressed accordingly.’

‘I like it,’ Draco told her with a grin. ‘It’s good that someone made an effort to look good this evening.’ He pointed towards a woman further down the garden who was wearing a red and white Santa outfit that, with its short length, was little more than a belt. ‘At least you didn’t dress like that.’

Hermione shuddered at the thought of showing off so much flesh. ‘Not really my sort of thing,’ she told him.

‘No, it isn’t, is it?’ Draco’s gaze raked over her as he spoke and Hermione felt her stomach somersault.

‘What are you drinking? We’ve got champagne if you want some,’ Blaise said, looking at Hermione’s glass and brandishing a bottle.

Hermione finished the small amount of wine still in her glass then held it out for some champagne.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at Blaise.

He winked at her, then began to top up the glasses of those around them.

‘You don’t look very comfortable,’ Draco said. He had moved away from the group to stand closer to Hermione.

‘I’m not,’ Hermione admitted ruefully. ‘I didn’t really want to come anyway, but dressed like this—’

‘As I said, I really like it. That colour suits you,’ Draco said with another smile. ‘Why didn’t you want to come to the party?’

Hermione shrugged and took a sip of her champagne. ‘It’s not really my sort of thing, to be honest. I’d much rather have stayed in and read a book — boring, I know.’

‘You’re not boring, and I can understand how this party isn’t living up to expectations,’ Draco countered. ‘But however bad it is, you can’t stay in on New Year’s Eve, Hermione. It’s a time to say farewell to the trials and tribulations of the old year and usher in the excitement of the new and as yet uncharted one. You can’t do that when you’re at home on your own.’

‘I find it all a bit depressing, to be honest,’ Hermione conceded.

‘It doesn’t help that you’re apparently still sober,’ Draco said with a smile.

‘I haven’t been here all that long.’ Hermione’s tone was slightly defensive although she wasn’t quite sure why.

‘About forty-seven minutes, according to my watch. More than enough time if you’re dedicated enough,’ Draco said as he looked at the timepiece on his wrist.

Hermione stared at him in surprise, wondering how and why he had noticed her arrival. She would never have expected it.

‘I’m not. I don’t really drink that much.’

‘Obviously.’ Draco dropped his hand and shivered. ‘Merlin’s beard, it’s cold out here, isn’t it? I thought it was going to snow earlier but no such luck. It’s blowing a bloody gale down on the front, though. We got blown right round the corner, it was so fierce. I think we’re going to go back inside now. It might be crap in there but at least it’s warm — and it’s almost midnight. Are you going to come with us?’

Hermione nodded mutely and followed the group back into the kitchen, where she discovered the Auror boys were waiting, having apparently sunk several more shots since she had left them.

‘There you are. We thought you had gone home,’ Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. Tartly, she told him, ‘There wouldn’t have been much point in me coming in the first place if I was going to leave before midnight, would there?’ She looked around, suddenly worried. ‘Where’s Neville?’

‘Hannah Abbott,’ Ron said with a wink as he attempted and failed to tap his nose.

‘Really?’ Hermione was quite interested in this news. ‘How long have they been a couple?’

Dean looked at his watch, closing one eye as he attempted to focus on it. After a moment he gave up and shrugged. ‘About fifteen minutes.’

‘Ah, right.’ Hermione nodded, understanding that this was just another drunken hook-up rather than a real relationship.

‘It’s almost midnight,’ Ron announced. He was still swaying, so much so that he was making Hermione feel a bit queasy just looking at him.

She glanced towards Draco and his friends who had moved away from the door and were clustered around, chatting animatedly. Hermione wondered whether she could go and join them again, whether they would allow her into their group or whether that access was over now she had returned to her own friends. Draco was leaning forward slightly, listening to a beautiful blonde as she talked to him intently. Hermione’s heart sank. If she went over there she would definitely be intruding.

Hermione sipped her champagne, the bubbles making her nose tickle as she watched Draco deep in conversation; for her, there was no one else but him in the room at that moment. She realised she _was_ edging his way, slowly and without it being obvious — she hadn’t even realised she was doing it.

Suddenly, there was almost total silence as the music was turned off. Voices that had once been loud were instantly subdued by the quiet. Then, breaking the fleeting peace, came the sound of Big Ben striking the hour — ringing in the New Year — although Hermione had no idea where it was coming from; presumably the party host had intercepted a Muggle radio broadcast. People began loudly counting down the chimes, a sense of anticipation running through the whole house as if everyone was ready to explode when the final chime was over and the brand new year arrived.

As the bell continued to chime midnight, Hermione realised that Draco was staring at her, all signs of interest in the blonde seemingly gone. Hermione stared back at him, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart pounding. Despite the beautiful women all around him, Draco was interested in her. Did she dare take those next few steps that would bring her close enough to touch him, to put him in the perfect position for a kiss when the bell finished tolling? A little voice in her mind told her not to be so stupid — he was just looking, it didn’t mean he desired her — but Hermione was certain that it was now or never.

Taking a deep breath, she moved towards him, only to be enveloped in a massive bear hug as Ron grabbed her and pulled her into an impassioned kiss as the last chime of the bell faded away.

Hermione’s heart sank, knowing she had missed her chance, and as she fought to free herself from Ron’s arms she saw Draco turn away, his attention back on the beautiful blonde as he gracefully wrapped his arms around her slender waist and kissed her — the kiss that Hermione was certain had been intended for her.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched the couple, one kiss turning into several more, her heart breaking as she ignored her friends, all of whom were trying to wish her a happy new year. Hermione already knew it wouldn’t be. They were less than five minutes in and already her world had been shattered by Ron and his unthinking drunken behaviour. She was angry with him, so angry, but there was no point in confronting him about it now.

Hermione had to get away, needed to go home where she could scream and cry without anyone being any the wiser. But now Harry was wrapping his arms around her, whispering in her ear. She was surrounded by her friends, stopping her from escaping as she so longed to do.

By the time she had hugged and wished happy new year to all the Auror boys, been forced into joining in with Auld Lang Syne, and exchanged more good wishes with other friends from school and university, Draco and the blonde had left the kitchen, the whole group seemingly dispersing into the night.

She explained to her friends that she needed to leave, that she wasn’t feeling well and was uncomfortable staying at the party any longer. Some disappointment was expressed, but by now the Auror boys really were far too drunk to care too much and they soon released her. Hermione made her way back through the house, spotting Blaise near the stairs with a tall, willowy brunette wrapped around him, and kept going, praying that she wouldn’t come across Draco and the blonde in a similar pose.

Unfortunately, as she stepped outside the door, the smokers still spreading a fug across the entrance, Hermione heard a high-pitched giggle and a wicked laugh, and her heart almost stopped. As she descended the stairs, needing only to get away, she could see Draco and the blonde woman ahead of her, wrapped around each other under the street lamp, the illumination bringing into sharp relief the couple’s obvious interest in each other.

Hermione managed to stifle her sob until she got round the corner, rushing as fast as her legs would carry her back to her solitary little flat, tears rolling down her cheeks like a flood. She had been so close and Ron, the bloody great oaf, had completely ruined her evening . . . and not for the first time.

She flung herself onto her bed, hugging the pillow as she sobbed and wailed, her heart breaking all over again.

It was a long time before she fell asleep.


	2. New Year’s Eve 2001

 

Hermione already knew she was making a huge mistake and it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet.  After the disastrous New Year’s Eve party last year, she had been determined that she wasn’t going to bother again, that she would rather sit at home alone, even if her friends did all call her the Grinch, rather than waste time on a crappy, boring party she didn’t feel mentally qualified to attend.

But now here she was, back in the same kitchen she had stood in exactly a year before, feeling almost as uncomfortable and out of place as she had then. At least this time she wasn’t overdressed, thank Merlin, and thanks to the badgering of her friends she was a bit tipsy, having already spent a couple of hours in the pub before they descended on what she was certain was going to turn out to be yet another dispiriting night.

She hadn’t said anything in the aftermath of the last party to Ron or any of the others about having ruined her evening as she didn’t want to admit to her attraction for Draco, knowing it probably wasn’t going to be a popular confession. But she knew that Harry had relatively quickly cottoned on that something was up.

Hermione honestly hadn’t expected Ron to pick up on it. Since, as she had accused in their Hogwarts days, he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, she had to be almost screaming at him before he even realised she was annoyed with him; the more subtle forms of anger she had exuded throughout the early days of January flew way over his head. The rest of the Auror boys hadn’t realised either although to be fair, she wasn’t as close to any of them as she was to Harry and Ron so she didn’t really expect them to understand her moods anyway.

Harry had tried to discuss it once, when a couple of weeks of stroppy Hermione became too much for him to bear but by then she felt embarrassed that she had let herself get so upset about a stupid kiss, particularly with someone who had been her enemy for so long, so she had refused to speak to him about it and instead, completely denied that anything was wrong.

It had been the turning point, however, and once Hermione had immersed herself in the new term she finally dropped the anger and the attitude and returned to focussing on her coursework, which was the only important thing as far as she was concerned.

Hermione didn’t think the beautiful blonde woman at the party had become Draco’s girlfriend afterwards, at least not a long-term one, as she had never seen her again. However, her place had been filled by plenty of other equally gorgeous women throughout the year — Draco and Blaise were still never alone. The likelihood was that even if she had managed to snag that kiss it wouldn’t have gone any further, and she still wouldn’t be his girlfriend.

The truth was that she’d had her moment and had missed it, thanks to Ron, and now she just had to resign herself to the fact that a relationship with Draco was never going to be anything more than a wishful fantasy — and maybe that was for the best, really.

If they had got together that night it might have made things awkward between them afterwards but instead, she and Draco were still partnering each other in classes, a good match for each other in both intellect and magic, and both their grades were the better for it. They got on well enough, and without it ever extending any further than a casual friendship.

A couple of times during the year Hermione had considered what Draco would do if she tried to insinuate herself further into his life, but that was only ever a pipe dream, and she tried not think about it too often as it only depressed her.

Hermione knew she was far too cowardly to actually put herself forward knowing that in doing so she was likely to make herself a figure of ridicule for the Slytherin and his friends. It was better that she forget all about him as a prospective lover and just accept that he was destined only to be her friend.

She waved at Hannah and Neville, who were heading towards her, and smiled at them. They were a success story, so far at least, and Hermione loved seeing the couple together. They were the first of her friends, with the exception of Harry, who had been in love with Ginny for years whether they had been a couple at the time or not, to have settled into a serious relationship. Whilst the last New Year’s Eve hadn’t been any good for her, it had been wonderful for her two friends.

‘Happy anniversary,’ she said once the couple joined her. ‘I thought you were going to come to the pub and celebrate with a few drinks before the party?’

Hannah blushed prettily and smiled. Neville, who already had his arm around his girlfriend, squeezed her tightly.

‘We were but we lost track of time.’ His grin told Hermione everything she needed to know.

‘Well, you didn’t miss anything, apart from Ronald and Ernie having a competition to see who could drink their pint the quickest — it was Ernie, in case you’re interested — although he threw up straight afterwards because he drank it so quickly.’ She rolled her eyes to show how pathetic she thought the bet had been.

Both Neville and Hannah laughed at her comment.

Hermione shuddered as she continued, ‘Seamus and Dean were going to have a pickled egg eating contest then, but I told them if they did that I was going straight home and there was no way I was coming to the party. I can’t stand pickled eggs and it makes me feel ill just thinking about them, let alone actually eating one . . . or worse still, watching someone else eating them. Bleurgh.’

‘I don’t mind pickled eggs,’ Neville said. ‘They’re better when you’ve had a few pints, mind.’

Hannah wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m with you, Hermione. I think they’re disgusting. So where are the others?’

‘Merlin only knows. I came out here to get a drink and have a break from them all for a while. I think Seamus was going to go and chat up that woman he’s been lusting after for the last few weeks — what’s her name, Bronwyn or something, isn’t it? She and her friend Mary were both in the lounge and dancing away. Harry and Ron were propping up the wall in there the last I saw, casually surveying the talent — Ron’s term, not mine — and I haven’t seen Ernie since we got here. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s passed out somewhere. I’m thinking of going into the garden for a bit as it’s so hot and crowded in here. Hopefully, it’ll be quieter out there.’

‘I suppose we should go and find the others and say hullo,’ Neville said as Hannah poured them both drinks. ‘We’ll see you later, Hermione.’

Hermione left them to it, heading for the door to the garden with its usual cluster of smokers and then beyond into the relative quiet of the cold, rimy garden. As she moved further down the lawn she felt her heart sink a little when she realised Draco and his friends weren’t out here as she had been hoping. Although she would never have admitted it, even to herself, she had been looking out for the blond Slytherin ever since she had arrived at the party and having not seen him anywhere in the house she had assumed they would be out here. Unless he was upstairs, somewhere she wouldn’t be going to check, Draco hadn’t bothered to come to the party this year.

She felt disappointment flare within her as she wandered slowly across the grass, checking to make sure he and his friends weren’t down the far end of the long garden. As she made her way back towards the house the feeling was supplemented by a touch of annoyance that Draco had left her to suffer this awful party on her own.

If she was honest, she wasn’t really all that surprised, though. They had only discussed the last party once and that was about five months after it happened. She couldn’t really remember now how the subject had even come up, but Draco had spent several minutes laughing about how terrible it had been, although to Hermione’s delight he had mentioned once again how much he liked the outfit she had worn.

This was of little comfort to Hermione now as she was here at the party alone. She realised for the first time that deep down she had been hoping that this year she could put herself in a position where she could get the kiss she had missed out on last year. Now, with Draco missing, all she had to look forward to was a kiss from the various Auror boys and other assorted friends, and maybe from a stranger or two if she let her guard down enough. 

The disappointment grew as she re-entered the house, knowing that now only fifteen minutes remained until Big Ben would ring in the new year once more. Feeling somewhat peeved, Hermione debated leaving and going home despite the arguments it would no doubt cause, but she soon realised she was being stupid and selfish.

Her happiness didn’t depend on Draco Malfoy, far from it, and although the party wasn’t the sort of place she would choose to spend her time, all her friends were here and they were all she really needed. She poured herself another drink, took a large sip, and entered the lounge to find Harry and Ron.

It didn’t take much looking. Harry was still where Hermione had left him, propping up the wall, looking almost as bored as she felt without either of his best friends there to keep him company. She suspected he was missing Ginny, who was currently on a tour of the Baltic States with her new Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies. He was obviously quite drunk but nowhere near the level he had been this time last year, as he hadn’t been drinking shots with Ernie.

Hermione had no idea where Ron had gone but she suspected a woman was involved — there usually was. She smiled at Harry, unable to do much more because of the deafeningly loud music, and took another sip of her drink. If she was going to be here she might as well get drunk like the rest of her friends.

A few minutes later the loud noise of shouting carried over the top of the music, driving Hermione and Harry to turn and look to see what was happening, expecting to see a fight breaking out. Instead, Hermione found herself smiling when she realised Draco and his friends had all entered the room — cutting it extremely fine, but just about making it in time for the new year.

Her heart fluttered at the thought that maybe there was a chance for her after all but that hope was fairly quickly dashed as she counted the number of gorgeous young women flanking the group.

But despite the gaggle of women, if there was ever going to be any chance for the so-desired kiss, then she had to move now, had to strike up a conversation with Draco before the first bell of midnight tolled. Taking a deep breath, Hermione moved towards him, the smile plastered on her face as she said hullo, first to Blaise and then to the object of her affection.

Draco smiled brightly in return when he saw Hermione coming towards him and moved to greet her.

‘You decided to come then?’ he said, sounding amused.

‘I could say the same to you,’ Hermione retorted. ‘You cut it a bit fine, didn’t you?’

Draco shrugged. ‘We had a dinner party earlier and it ran on a bit, and then Theo wasn’t feeling too good — too much to drink — so we had to wait for him to finish vomming.’ He rolled his eyes, clearly expressing his opinion of his friend. ‘Of course, by that time everyone was having difficulty walking so it was slow going. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it in time. I thought we’d end up having to celebrate out in the street.’

‘But you did make it,’ Hermione said quietly, her eyes glinting with pleasure as she stared at him.

Draco’s eyes were also bright and he seemed equally happy.

‘Yep, here we are . . . again.’

Big Ben tolled the first chime of midnight and Hermione felt her heart speed up. Why was the bloody bell so slow? There were another eleven chimes before Draco could kiss her — before she could kiss him — and it seemed to be taking an eternity as everyone counted down the chimes.

Five chimes to go and a movement in her peripheral vision caught Hermione’s attention. To one side of Draco, she could see one of the women, another stunning blonde, trying to get his attention, presumably after her own kiss from him. But Draco’s eyes weren’t budging. He was as fixated on Hermione as she was on him.

There were only two chimes left now, and as they stared at each other, still smiling, counting down those last couple of seconds, Hermione felt her heart racing so fast now it must be ready to explode. She felt dizzy and light-headed — there was only one chime left.

As Big Ben rang in the last chime and the countdown ended, Hermione was swept up by a wave of excitement like nothing she had ever felt before. Draco was moving towards her — they were so close they could almost touch. This time they were going to kiss and it was going to be absolutely perfect.

‘Hermione!’

The roar made her jump, as did the large, solid arms wrapping around her as Ron yanked her back towards him, appearing from nowhere, his mouth finding hers with a possessiveness that made her gasp. By the time her brain had caught up with events she was trapped, her pissed friend holding her tightly as if he didn’t want to release her.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Ron murmured a moment before he kissed her again, swaying with her as he held onto her.

Hermione fought down the urge to hit him, glancing over his shoulder as the kiss finished. As she had known would be the case, Draco was entwined with the blonde.

‘I think I love you,’ Ron told her dramatically as he squeezed her, trying to pull her back for another kiss.

‘No, you don’t, Ronald,’ Hermione reminded him shortly. ‘If you remember, we decided three years ago that we weren’t right for each other.’

‘Still love you, though,’ Ron said drunkenly.

Hermione sighed deeply. ‘That’s lovely, but I don’t want to kiss you so let me go.’

Ron seemed to realise that Auld Lang Syne had broken out around them and released Hermione. He pulled her towards Harry and the others who had reappeared with the ending of the chimes. Hermione looked back, staring disconsolately at Draco who was now celebrating with his friends rather than kissing the blonde. A moment later she was dragged into the circle and Draco was gone, out of her line of vision, and once she had finished dancing, gone from the room.

Hermione felt her stomach lurch as she remembered Draco snogging under the streetlight the year before. Surely he wouldn’t do that to her again, would he? She could feel the tears rising as the bitter tang of disappointment overwhelmed her. She needed to leave, even if Draco was out there. She needed to be alone before she hexed Ron.

‘Are you okay, Hermione?’ Harry asked, seeing her distraught expression.

Hermione shook her head. ‘I need to go. I’m sorry, Harry, but I can’t stay here.’

‘It was Ron, wasn’t it?’ Harry asked. ‘Him kissing you like that. It was too much.’

Hermione nodded, the tears glistening in her eyes.

Harry moved towards her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

‘He’s drunk, and you know he still likes you, Hermione. I mean, I don’t think he fancies you, exactly, but at times like this — you know, when you want to be with the people you care about most — he wants to be with you. He just doesn’t realise how overpowering he can be.’

‘I know that, but—’

‘You were hoping for someone else,’ Harry said sagely.

Hermione stared at him, realising with a spike of surprise that her friend knew about Draco. She nodded as the tears spilt free and Harry hugged her again.

‘It’s too late now,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Hermione.’

‘I was so close,’ she whispered miserably. ‘I thought this year for sure—’

Harry considered this comment for a moment. ‘That’s why you were so upset last year, too. Ron kissed you and Dra—’

Hermione put her hand over his mouth to stop him saying the name.

‘I need to go home. Will you come with me, Harry?’

Harry smiled at her sympathetically. ‘Of course I will. Let me just go and tell Ron we’re leaving, yeah?’

Hermione looked anxious. ‘I don’t want him coming with us. I can’t deal with him at the moment.’

‘Don’t worry, he won’t be leaving just yet. He’s having far too much fun here.’ Harry squeezed her hand, then released it and began to move away from her. ‘I’ll just be a couple of minutes.’

Watching him go, Hermione wiped at her eyes, forcing away the tears with shaking hands. As she waited for Harry to return she exchanged new year greetings with a few friends in the vicinity, a little worried about the crying at first but soon realising that plenty of people were lachrymose. It seemed that this time of year was a pretty emotional one for a lot of people.

She was glad that Harry would be with her when she left the party. At least if Draco was out there with the blonde woman she would be able to use her friend to take her mind off what was happening. But when they left the building Draco and his friends were nowhere to be seen, and Hermione realised they must have all left the party together and gone to continue it elsewhere.

Harry took her hand as they walked along the road, keeping silent at first, but as they turned the corner into Hermione’s road he voiced the question that had been badgering him ever since he had realised that Hermione fancied Draco Malfoy.

‘Why did you wait for tonight?’ he asked.

Hermione turned to look at him in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You obviously fancy Draco, and you almost kissed him last year but Ron got in the way — as he has a talent for doing. What I don’t understand is why you waited a whole year to have another go. The two of you share most of your classes, don’t you? So why didn’t you get together during the year — why wait until tonight?’

Hermione sighed. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, I do fancy him but it’s not a big thing if you know what I mean — I don’t want him to be my boyfriend or anything. The problem is that the kiss last year sort of was a big thing and because it didn’t happen it sort of became even more important this year. Does that make sense?’

‘Not really,’ Harry admitted.

‘I just wanted that one kiss,’ Hermione said, suddenly exploding. ‘I didn’t think it was too much to ask for in the great scheme of things. But it didn’t happen. So then, when it looked like it was going to happen this year it became far more important than it ever should have been. I know I’m being ridiculous and it’s just one kiss — but I feel like I’ve been cheated . . . twice now.’

‘So talk to him about it when classes start again,’ Harry suggested.

Hermione stared at him as if he was mad.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a New Year’s Eve thing, it doesn’t extend out from there. I’m not jeopardising my working relationship with Draco over something so stupid. I’ll be fine once I calm down and get over the disappointment. I just wish I hadn’t come to the party in the first place, then it would never have happened.’

‘You can’t hide from life, Hermione, and despite what you think there is more to it than studying,’ Harry said quietly.    

Hermione sighed again. ‘I know that Harry, but in this instance, I think I’d be willing to forgo life — just for the night.’

‘Come on, let’s get you indoors,’ Harry said as he led her towards her front door. ‘Have you got any cocoa? I’m bloody freezing.’

‘Yes, and I’ve got some brandy, too.’

‘Excellent!’ 

Harry rubbed his cold hands together as he waited for Hermione to open the front door. She pushed it open, took a step inside and stopped, one leg in and one out, to look back at Harry.

‘Can we not talk about this anymore?’ she requested.

Harry shrugged. ‘Okay. Whatever you want.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione whispered gratefully as she went into the house.


	3. New Year’s Eve 2002

Hermione honestly didn’t care what her friends thought of her tonight. This year she had absolutely no intention of going to that bloody New Year’s Eve party that had now ruined two years for her. She didn’t care that it was the last one they would attend as university students nor did she care that it would probably be the last time they would all be together for New Year, and she _definitely_ didn’t care that Draco had told her smilingly on the last day of term that he was looking forward to seeing her there.

He had said something similar last year, too, but had still ended up snogging someone else, leaving her to go home in pain again. The only comfort she had been able to draw was that at least she’d had Harry, who was desperately missing Ginny, for company that time — the two of them moping morosely together for several hours with a bottle of brandy and some hot chocolate.

It had taken her a long time to fully recover from that second assault on her heart and there was no way she was putting herself through it a third time, however much Draco smiled at her. Hermione was certain that he wasn’t interested in her as a potential girlfriend, anyway. As Harry had so thoughtfully pointed out if he really was interested in having a relationship with her he would surely have mentioned it during the year rather than leaving it until New Year’s Eve.

Hermione couldn’t for the life of her understand how one — no, two — stupid kisses had come to mean so much that they had taken over her whole life. It wasn’t even as if she fancied Draco that much, not really, and while it was true that she had spent a bit more time than she should have done imagining the two of them as a couple, she knew it was only a fantasy that was never going to come true.

This year she was going to stick to her guns, spending the evening alone and at home with a bottle of prosecco and a box of rather nice quality chocolates she had treated herself to especially for the occasion. She had already had a long, relaxing soak in the bath surrounded by her favourite scented candles and was now wearing her most comfortable and fluffy pyjamas along with some nice big fleecy socks and was more than ready to put her feet up and immerse herself in a novel, the light turned down as low as she could get away with.

The evening was going to be pleasant, it was going to be comforting, and above all else, it was going to be painless.

She took the bottle of prosecco from the fridge, pulling off the metal foil and the wire cage before grabbing a tea towel to wrap around the cork, giving her a bit of extra grip. She slowly twisted the cork, feeling it rising up the neck of the bottle until it was released with a pop. She moved the tea towel, pleased to see that the wine hadn’t bubbled up and spilt out of the bottle.

Hermione pulled a wine glass from the cupboard and carefully poured the prosecco, waiting as the bubbles died down before filling the glass. She returned the bottle to the fridge and retrieved the chocolates she had stashed in there earlier, grabbing the glass as she made her way back to the lounge and _The Shadow of the Wind_ , a book she had been looking forward to reading for several months.

Once settled, Hermione took a sip of the wine and placed the glass on the floor. She pulled the lid off the chocolates and retrieved the small illustrated card that described the delights that awaited within. She considered carefully, eventually choosing a luxurious raspberry mousse wrapped in dark chocolate, savouring the taste of the exquisite bite. She chose a second chocolate, a rich caramel this time, and then placed the box beside her on the sofa.

Hermione picked up the book, her fingers caressing the crisp, clean cover, and studied the illustration as she enjoyed the newness of it. The pages were fresh and unread and gave off that aroma of new books that never failed to entrance her. She opened the first page and found herself instantly involved in the story, no frontispiece or dedication easing her into the new world she was about to encounter . . . .

 

 

* * *

 

 

At first, Hermione ignored the sound of the doorbell. She was so deep in the world of Daniel Sempere and his quest to track down the works of Julián Carax that she didn’t even notice it. She was far too engrossed in the story and wasn’t expecting any visitors, so wasn’t prepared to hear the sound. But eventually the buzzing, constant every thirty seconds, broke through — more a distraction from the text than anything else — and she realised someone was at the door.

Frowning slightly at the interruption, Hermione put the menu card from the chocolates in the book, using it to mark her page, and closed it, setting the book on top of the now half-empty box of chocolates. She rose from the sofa and headed for the door, glancing at the clock on the wall as she went. It was ten past ten. She hadn’t realised how much time had elapsed since she had sat down.

For a moment Hermione considered that she wasn’t exactly dressed to receive visitors but then decided that she didn’t really care. If whoever it was outside her door wanted to see her that badly, they would have to put up with her comforting pyjamas. She turned the lock, pulled open the door, and peered out into the hallway. Whoever it was hadn’t come into the house, they were still standing out on the doorstep, so it was unlikely to be another of the building’s inhabitants.

Leaving the warmth of her cosy flat, Hermione made her way along the chilly hall towards the front door. She couldn’t see who it was through the frosted glass panel, but she got the impression from the size of the silhouette that they were female.

Maybe they had pressed the wrong button and actually wanted one of the men who lived on the next two floors. She couldn’t imagine Hannah coming to see her at this time of night as she would surely be with Neville and the rest of the Auror boys at the party of the year, and there was no one else who would feel the urge to visit.

Hermione considered ignoring the door, but then realised how cold it must be outside. She was shivering and she was wrapped head to toe in fleece, and there was no reason she couldn’t direct the woman to the right flat — it was possible she was coming to surprise her boyfriend or something and didn’t want him opening the door.

She reached the door and unlocked it, tugging on the stiff wood to open it, and a gasp escaped her lips as the cold air rushed into the hallway, bringing the faint aroma of something floral with it. The first thing to catch her eye was the red hair, blown like a curtain by a gust of wind, Ginny’s chuckle as she tried to catch it and pull it under control came a moment behind.

‘Are you going to let me in or are you going to leave me out here freezing all night?’ she asked as she barged past Hermione and into the slightly warmer house. ‘Gods, it’s bloody freezing out there. I bet it’s going to snow later.’

Hermione closed the door and turned to follow her friend, who was already making her way to Hermione’s flat, pushing open the pulled-to door and peering into the room before she entered. By the time Hermione joined her, Ginny was pulling off her gloves, having already removed her cloak which she had thrown carelessly over the back of an armchair.

‘What are you doing here?’ Hermione asked, still astonished to see Ginny.

Ginny plonked herself into the armchair. ‘If you mean what am I doing in Brighton, I’m here to spend New Year’s Eve with my boyfriend, my brother and my oldest friends, and hopefully, have a few drinks and some good times. There was a riot in the team about us being away from home for Christmas again so they decided to give us a few days off. We go back to the tour of Italy in a couple of days, once we’ve all got over our hangovers.’ She grinned. ‘Talking of hangovers, have you got anything to drink?’ She had noticed Hermione’s empty wine glass on the floor.

‘Oh, yes. I’ve got some prosecco. Hold on a minute.’

Hermione hurried to the kitchen and retrieved another wine glass from the cupboard as well as the bottle of prosecco from the fridge. She returned to the lounge and gave Ginny the glass, then poured her a drink then she grabbed her own glass from the floor and refilled it.

Ginny looked around her, seeming not very impressed.

‘It’s not exactly festive in here, is it?’ she said, wrinkling her nose.

Hermione shrugged. ‘It doesn’t need to be, does it? You know I don’t really do all that decorating stuff. Anyway, I’ve got my snowflake pyjamas on.’

‘Yes, you have, haven’t you,’ Ginny said somewhat scornfully as she stared at her. ‘Why are you ready for bed at this time on New Year’s Eve?’

Hermione was defensive as she answered. ‘I’m not ready for bed. I’ve just made myself comfortable.’

She sat down on the sofa and took a sip of her drink as she waited for Ginny to speak again, as she knew she would eventually. She moved the book, picking up the box of chocolates and holding them out to Ginny. The redhead took the box from her and looked at the remaining chocolates.

‘What are they?’ she asked. ‘How can you tell which is which?’

‘Hang on,’ Hermione said.

As Ginny watched she pulled at the label on the wine bottle, pulling a strip off, then opened her book and used it to replace the card she had been using as a marker. With a smile, she handed the card to Ginny.

‘What’s your book about?’ Ginny asked as she perused the menu card.

‘It’s set in Muggle Spain at the end of the second world war,’ Hermione told her, excited to talk about it. ‘Daniel, who is the son of an antiquarian book dealer and has lost his mother, is taken to a fantastical place called the Cemetery of Forgotten Books and is told to choose one to take stewardship of. He chooses _The Shadow of the Wind_ by a mysterious author called Julián Carax and then sets out to track down his other stories. It’s a really good book so far, although I only started it this evening.’

‘Which brings me to why I’m here at your flat,’ Ginny stated bluntly. ‘Why are you wearing your pyjamas and reading books when you should be having fun at the party with the rest of us?’

Hermione shook her head and sighed. ‘I’m not going to the party this year. I’ve done it twice and it was crap — both times — so I don’t see why I should torture myself again.’

‘You realise everyone is waiting for you, don’t you?’ Ginny said as she chose another chocolate. ‘These are really nice chocolates.’

‘They should be, the price they cost,’ Hermione retorted, her voice slightly sour.

She was embarrassed that when Ginny had mentioned everyone waiting for her, Draco’s face automatically slipped into her mind. Not her friends, not even her best ones, but Draco bloody Malfoy and his perfect blond features.

‘Ron’s really upset that you’ve blown us out,’ Ginny told her as she emptied the last of the prosecco into her glass. She took a large mouthful then waved the glass. ‘So is Harry, but he’s trying to be cool about it. He understands why you don’t want to go—’

‘Did he tell you?’ Hermione asked angrily, instantly annoyed with Harry for telling his girlfriend about her secret when she had made it perfectly clear that she expected him not to tell anyone else.

Ginny shrugged. ‘He mentioned something about Ron ruining your evening, but surely you must be used to that by now, Hermione — the boy’s a bloody idiot and always has been. Look at what he did at the Yule Ball. Just forget about him, have a few drinks and enjoy yourself for once in your life.’

Hermione was relieved that Ginny hadn’t mentioned Draco. Perhaps Harry wasn’t a traitor after all.

‘Anyway, Harry thought you might try to pull this sort of stunt so he’s sent me here to get you up and dressed and along to the party.’

Hermione shook her head again. ‘I’m not going. I’m perfectly happy here reading my book and eating my chocolates. It’s what I like doing. I don’t like parties.’

‘Well, that’s your bad luck because I’m not leaving unless you come with me,’ Ginny told her.

Before Hermione realised what she was doing Ginny had risen from the chair and leant across, picking up the novel. She sat back down again.

‘I’m taking this hostage until you get your arse in gear and go and get dressed. I don’t think you want to go to the party dressed like that, do you? Although I suppose you could always pretend you’re in fancy dress.’

‘I don’t want to go to the party full stop,’ Hermione retorted miserably. ‘I don’t even know why you care so much. Surely you want to be with Harry, don’t you?’

‘Yes . . . I do. Which is why I would really like you to hurry up and get ready,’ Ginny said.

‘Why don’t you just go back and tell the others that I’m fine and I’m having a perfectly good evening on my own? You can be with Harry and I can be happy here with my book,’ Hermione said, trying to persuade her friend to return the book to her.

‘Not going to happen,’ Ginny replied blandly. ‘I can sit here all night if need be although I’d prefer not to as the place is so bloody dreary.’ She paused for a moment to take a sip of her prosecco. ‘Do you know how annoying I can be when I want to be? I’m a master at it after living with all those brothers, especially Fred and George. If you don’t go and get dressed I’m going to sit here and sing you Christmas songs — badly, too. You would be _amazed_ at how many I know. I don’t think me singing karaoke to you all evening is going to be all that relaxing, is it, Hermione?’ She stared at the empty bottle. ‘Have you got anything else to drink?’

Hermione shook her head. She did have a bottle of brandy but she wasn’t letting Ginny know that. It was bad enough that she was threatening to disrupt her evening with singing without adding hard spirits to the equation.

‘That’s bloody annoying, but I expect I’ll manage. Now, what do you want to hear first? A carol or something a bit more modern? I know . . . how about _Deck the Halls_?’ Ginny launched into the song, immediately proving that she was right about her singing voice not being very good.

Hermione stared morosely at her friend. ‘Please, Ginny. Just let me stay here. I really don’t want to go to the party.’

‘But why not? All your friends are there,’ Ginny pointed out. ‘ _’Tis the season to be jolly . . . ._ ’

Hermione groaned. ‘I know, but I’m really not a party person.’

‘And I can’t sing but I’m doing it anyway,’ Ginny shot back. ‘ _Don we now our gay apparel . . . ._ ’

Hermione winced as she missed several notes, although she half suspected Ginny was doing it on purpose.

‘You’re giving me a headache,’ she moaned. ‘Perhaps I _should_ just go to bed.’

‘No. You’re going to go into the bedroom and get dressed and then we’re going to go to the party and have a good time,’ Ginny insisted grimly. ‘And if you don’t get into that bedroom and start getting dressed now I’m going to drag you in there and force you into an outfit of _my_ choosing — and believe me, after all that Quidditch I am much stronger than you are, Hermione.

‘ _Fa la la la la, la la la la!_ ’

Hermione sighed loudly, but realising she had little choice, she headed for the bedroom. She didn’t intend to get dressed, though. No, she was going to get her wand and then she would see how eager Ginny was to get her to go to the party.

A couple of seconds later she emerged again, brandishing her wand, a freezing charm headed towards the redhead even as Hermione apologised silently for what she was doing to her. She really didn’t want to go to the party, though, and surely this would be enough to convince Ginny to leave her alone.

Hermione heard Ginny chuckle and her heart sank.

‘You don’t honestly think I wasn’t ready for you to try to hex me, Hermione? I know how your mind works . . . and _brothers_ , remember. I knew you would probably try to put some sort of spell on me so I put up a shield charm. Nice try but no banana.

‘ _Expelliarmus!_ ’

Hermione gasped as her wand left her hand and she watched with dismay as it flew over to Ginny, who caught it easily.

‘Now go and get dressed, Hermione. I’m not joking,’ Ginny warned her voice suddenly like ice.

Sulking now, Hermione knew she was beaten. If she pushed Ginny any further she probably would carry out her threat to drag her into the bedroom, and Hermione dreaded to think what awful outfit Ginny would make her wear as a punishment. Whatever she chose, Hermione knew it would be worse than the blue velvet dress she had worn the first year, and she could still remember how out of place that had made her feel.

Sullenly she slunk into the bedroom, slamming the door loudly as Ginny cheerfully started singing again, this time about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Okay, she was going to have to go to the party, but that didn’t mean she needed to make an effort to dress up. In fact, the more normal she looked, the better. She glanced out of the window and saw the grey overcast sky brightening up the dark. Ginny was right, there was definitely snow up there.

Quickly she worked to open drawers and cupboards, digging out clothes that would keep her warm and comfortable. Harry and Ginny were so bloody determined she would go to this party, so she would. But she wasn’t going spend all night with them and earn another midnight attack from Ron. No, she had a much better idea; she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it before. It would have saved all the nastiness with Ginny . . . and all that bloody singing.

Ten minutes later she was ready. She opened her bedroom door and went to join Ginny, who was in the middle of a much more in-tune rendition of _Santa Baby_.

‘You can give me my wand back now,’ Hermione said tersely as she held out her hand.

Ginny looked her up and down. ‘Are you going on a trek to the Arctic Circle? Do you really need a jumper that thick for a house party, Hermione? And those boots — you look like you’re heading out on a hike, not off to a party.’

Hermione shrugged. ‘Take it or leave it. This is what I’m wearing and I have no intention of changing. It looks cold out there and I think you’re right — it’s going to snow soon. Now, can I have my wand?’

Ginny stood up, placing the book on the seat she had just vacated and gave Hermione her wand back. She retrieved her cloak and wrapped it around her, then stared at the clock on the wall. It was ten to eleven.

‘That wasn’t too bad, actually,’ she said jovially as she pulled on her gloves. ‘I thought it was going to take at _least_ an hour to get you to agree, let alone get you dressed and ready to go. Come on then. Let’s go and have some fun.’

Sighing miserably, Hermione led the way out of the room as Ginny didn’t trust her to go second, her own cloak wrapped tightly around her.

Once they were walking down the road, Ginny took her arm and smiled at her.

‘Smile, Hermione. It really isn’t going to be that bad. It’s going to be a few laughs and a few drinks and then it’ll be midnight and it’ll all be over.’

‘That’s what I was told the last two years and it turned out to be nothing of the sort,’ Hermione moaned. 

‘That’s ‘cos I wasn’t there,’ Ginny said with a wide grin and a wicked wink. ‘I promise this year’s going to be _much_ better.’

‘It looks exactly the same so far,’ Hermione opined as they reached the steps of the house.

She was certain it was the same groups of women out crying over their boyfriends that had been there the previous two years. Perhaps they were stuck in a time loop, destined to relive the same arguments and the sympathy that followed again and again.

The smokers were the same, too although there seemed to be more of them this year — and she knew some of them. She waved and said hullo to a couple of people, then with a sinking heart but resolute now, she walked through the door and into the hallway that was full of the usual drunken revellers.

‘I expect they’ll be in the kitchen,’ Hermione said as she and Ginny made their way through the packed lounge. She was absolutely baking with all the layers she was wearing, but she didn’t care.

Ginny stopped for a few seconds to dance with a boy who grabbed her around the waist but Hermione kept walking, determinedly heading for the door to the kitchen, ignoring everyone who came near her. As she walked into the kitchen, followed a few seconds later by Ginny, a roar of jubilation erupted from her friends who were, as she had suspected, pretty solidly drunk and getting more so all the time from the look of the shot glasses on the table in front of them.

‘You finally made it,’ Harry said delightedly, sweeping her up into a huge hug. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep him away from you this year,’ he whispered as he held her tight.

‘You really have no idea how to dress for a party, do you, Hermione?’ Ron said with amusement as he studied her outfit. ‘You must be baking in that.’

‘I’m fine,’ Hermione said shortly, suffering the bone-crushing hug he bestowed upon her.

‘You need one of these,’ Dean said with a smile, and he handed her a shot glass full of clear liquid, then passed one to Ginny.

‘Sambucca?’ she asked, and he nodded.

Resigned now, Hermione clinked glasses with the others and drank down the shot, shivering as she felt it burn its way to her stomach.

‘Is there a beer?’ she asked with a slight grimace as soon as she could talk again. ‘I really need to get rid of the taste of that.’

Seamus was on hand to once again provide her with a bottle of beer, and for the next few minutes Hermione talked to her friends, trying to ignore the fact that she was overheating dramatically. It really was hot in the kitchen but she didn’t want to take off the jumper.

‘Where are Hannah and Neville?’ she asked, having realised that the couple were missing. Harry, Ginny and Ron were gone now too, the first two to dance, and Hermione assumed Ron had headed for the lounge as there were more available women in there.

‘They’re going around the house giving everyone their good news,’ Ernie said. ‘Do you want another shot, Hermione?’

Hermione waved her hand to indicate that she didn’t.

‘Shut up Ernie,’ Seamus said. ‘It’s not up to you to tell Hermione.’

Ernie shot him a filthy look. ‘I was only answering her question. I didn’t say what the good news was, did I?’

‘It’s not that difficult to work out, though, is it?’ Dean pointed out.

‘Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to them,’ Hermione assured her friends. ‘I think I might go out in the garden for a bit. It’s hot in here and there are too many people. Do you want to come?’ She only asked them because she knew they would say no — none of them was dressed for venturing outside.

All of them shook their heads, but just as she was about to make her escape she heard her name called and saw a happy and very pink Hannah and an equally pink and smiling Neville rapidly making their way towards her.

‘Hullo, you two,’ she said with a smile.

Hannah grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.

‘Neville asked me to marry him this morning,’ she whispered in Hermione’s ear, then pulled back and held out her hand to show off the classy solitaire diamond engagement ring.

Hermione beamed, feeling genuinely pleased for her friends. Although New Year’s Eve wasn’t a good time for her, it was a wonderful time for Neville and Hannah.

‘How wonderful. Congratulations!’ She raised her beer in salute, then grabbed Neville, hugging him tightly for a moment before adding Hannah to it.

‘When are you getting married?’ she asked when she released them both.

‘We haven’t got that far yet,’ Neville admitted. ‘But I’ve decided not to go back to the Ministry of Magic. I don’t think being an Auror is right for me, and it can be a bit dangerous.’

‘What will you do instead?’ Hermione asked. ‘What about the rest of your course? You’ve completed over two years of it.’

Neville looked rueful for a moment. ‘I know. But some of it is going to come in useful regardless of what I do. I had a talk with the university board just before the end of last term and I’ve managed to get transferred to classes that will be much better suited to the job I’ve accepted.’

‘You’ve got another job already? What is it?’ Hermione enquired interestedly.

There was a pause before Neville, looking excited, announced, ‘I’m going to be a Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, assisting Professor Sprout. I start in September.’

Hermione hugged him again, her heart full of warmth. ‘That is such a great job for you,’ she told him honestly.

‘I know. He’s going to be brilliant, isn’t he?’ Hannah said, clearly as excited as Neville.

‘And what are you going to do?’ Hermione asked, wondering where Hannah was going to fit into the life of a Hogwarts teacher.

The woman shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet, I haven’t decided what I want to do. But I’m sure the right thing will come along eventually.’

‘I’m sure it will,’ Hermione agreed. ‘I really am so pleased for you both. Congratulations again.’

As Hannah and Neville walked away, continuing their tour of the house, Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall. Her heart suddenly started thudding as she realised there were only fifteen minutes to go until midnight.

She had to get away, had to make her escape before everything went wrong and her evening was ruined once again. Trying to hold on to the good feeling that had been percolating inside her, she patted Dean on his shoulder as she passed, indicating that she was going to the garden.

Once she had navigated the cluster of smokers and the thick fog of smoke she found herself in a relatively empty garden. She had expected it would be. The weather was definitely colder tonight and the promise of snow hung in the air like a net of balloons waiting to be dropped.

Hermione felt relief as the cold hit the skin on her face, turning her cheeks pink and freezing the end of her nose, but she didn’t feel cold. That was what the layers were for. She was feeling snug and toasty warm and could stay out here all night if need be, except she only had to wait another twenty minutes or so until all the celebrating died down.

She walked down the garden, ducking behind a massive ornamental urn that she didn’t remember having seen before. It made a good hiding place, though. No one could see her, especially when she sat down behind it, her back leaning against the cold terracotta. It was a shame that the sky was so overcast because she couldn’t see the stars tonight, but out here, hidden away, it was so peaceful and calm that for the first time since she had arrived at the party she didn’t mind being there.

Hermione knew she wouldn’t be disturbed. With the exception of the die-hard smokers who never left the door, everyone else would be returning to the house for the countdown and the post-midnight revels which, she was gratified to discover, she would just about be able to hear the sound of; if the current music was anything to go by.

Ron wouldn’t come out here, not even to look for her, so some other lucky woman would be the recipient of his New Year’s kiss this year and she wouldn’t feel the stinging pain of having missed out. True, she wasn’t going to get to kiss Draco either, but that was a small price to pay for an unbroken heart.

Anyway, Draco was already otherwise engaged. She had spotted him in the lounge when she was walking through. He really did have a thing about blondes because he was dancing extremely closely with another one — the year three model — so she didn’t have to worry about what might have been with him, either.

Hermione felt a slight twinge in her heart, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. Of course she still wanted to kiss Draco, but she had to accept that it was something that just wasn’t destined to happen between them. Perhaps she could catch him on the last day of university — one fleeting kiss before they parted forever.

She raised the bottle to her lips, then realised she had drunk it all. Well, she wasn’t going back inside for another one otherwise she would get caught up with the midnight celebrations. She would just have to wait until it was safe to go back into the house when all the singing and dancing was over.

Hermione put the bottle on the grass and leant her head back against the pot. She closed her eyes and focussed on the faint sound of the music, throbbing and pulsing, the heavy bass sounding tinny by the time it reached her. Amazingly, considering how much she hadn’t wanted to be here earlier, she actually felt at peace.

‘Do you mind if I join you, Hermione?’

Hermione opened her eyes to see Draco standing in front of her. For a moment her heart leapt with excitement but then came that dull ache of longing that had ended up overwhelming her for the last two years.

He was holding out a bottle of beer. ‘I thought you might want another drink.’

Hermione took the bottle and Draco sat down next to her, close but not touching. He looked up at the sky, then back at Hermione.

‘No stars this year,’ he supplied. Then, ‘Are you hiding out from your hulking great brute of a boyfriend?’

Hermione stared at him in surprise.

‘Ron’s not my boyfriend. He’s just an idiot with an extremely bad sense of timing.’

Draco looked strangely relieved. ‘He isn’t?’

‘No. He isn’t. At least he hasn’t been for about four years.’

‘Good,’ Draco replied quietly. He was smiling now. ‘That means I can do this, then.’

He wrapped his arms around Hermione, pulling her to him as his lips found hers, gently at first but then with more intensity when he realised she wasn’t trying to stop him. She wrapped her arms around him in return, thoroughly enjoying the kiss.

‘It’s not midnight yet,’ she pointed out once they separated, her voice strangely husky.

Draco grinned. ‘True. But I owe you a kiss for this year . . . and one for last year, too, and I need to get them in before midnight.’

Then they were kissing again, sweet and searching and every bit as wonderful as Hermione had ever imagined it would be.

‘Are you cold?’ Draco asked solicitously once the second kiss finished and he had released her.

Hermione shook her head, her eyes shining brightly, not sure she could speak. She definitely wasn’t cold, if anything, she was burning up. Draco’s kisses really were something else.

‘No, I’m fine. This jumper’s really thick. But what about you? You’re only wearing a thin one.’

‘I’m fine . . . ah, listen. It’s midnight,’ Draco said, sounding pleased.

From the house came the first toll of the bell known as Big Ben.

‘Twelve,’ Hermione said automatically.

The bell rang again.

‘Eleven,’ Draco returned.

On and on the chimes pealed, Hermione and Draco taking it in turns to count down.

‘Three.’ Draco’s voice was gruff now.

He and Hermione were staring at each other every bit as avidly as they had in previous years, but this time they both knew they weren’t going to be disturbed. Their eyes glinted with fire as they waited impatiently for the last two chimes to finish.

‘Two.’ Hermione’s voice was a quiet whisper. Her stomach was doing somersaults and suddenly she felt faint. They were so close . . . .

‘One.’

As soon as the word escaped Draco’s lips he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was fevered and intense and he was holding her so tightly it was as if they were almost one. He didn’t relax his grip at all, even when the kiss was over, his mouth already searching out Hermione’s for a second, a third . . . .

Hermione held him back just as hard, her heart soaring with every kiss. She had always known Draco would be an amazing kisser but he easily surpassed her expectations, and although she had always assumed there would be just one kiss, now she didn’t want him to ever stop.

Another kiss concluded and Draco pulled back just a little, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

‘No Weasel to ruin it for us this time,’ he announced with a small chuckle, ‘and it’s snowing. Isn’t that just perfect?’

Hermione looked around her in surprise. She had been so wrapped up in Draco that she hadn’t noticed the large snowflakes that were softly falling, already beginning to decorate the garden with a white coat. It felt mystical, somehow, tied in with the magical kisses that she so desperately wanted more of.

‘I think I’m falling in love with you, Hermione,’ Draco told her honestly as he gently cupped her face, pulling it towards him for another kiss.

Hermione’s heart raced at the words, understanding and reciprocating them, a joyous feeling spreading throughout her body as their mouths met for another long and tender kiss.

‘I’ve wanted you for such a long time,’ Draco admitted during the next break in the kissing.

‘Why didn’t you ever say anything?’ Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. ‘I thought you and Weasley were a couple so there was no point in me saying anything . . . anyway, I didn’t think you’d be interested in me.’ His expression turned slightly maudlin.

Hermione stroked his face. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? You’re gorgeous, Draco, and don’t tell me you don’t know that.’

Sounding serious, Draco told her, ‘Looks aren’t everything, though, are they, Hermione? After everything I did to you over the years—’

Hermione smiled. ‘Water under the bridge. You’ve changed so much, and over the last few years since we’ve got to know each other properly I’ve realised just how much I like you, too. They say the past is another country and I think for us it really is — all that stuff that happened before the war seems almost like some sort of bad dream that happened to someone else and I just watched it unfold.’

‘I wanted to ask you out back at Hogwarts,’ Draco told her. ‘But I knew it was just a stupid fantasy. You were with the Weasel, or so I thought, so I put all thoughts of making you my girlfriend out of my mind — although it was difficult. But then we were here at university together and it was New Year and suddenly I saw my chance, and better still, I got the impression that you might be receptive to a kiss—

‘—and then your bloody boyfriend ruined everything,’ he concluded grumpily.

‘Ron _isn’t_ my boyfriend,’ Hermione reminded him.

‘As I said, I didn’t know that at the time. And for someone who isn’t a boyfriend, he’s incredibly bloody possessive of you.’

‘We haven’t been a couple since I went back to Hogwarts,’ Hermione explained. ‘We got together at the end of the war, but by the time I went back to school we knew it wasn’t working. We really are much better as friends. I love Ronald, but not romantically. He’s more like my brother—’ she chuckled— ‘a really annoying brother.’

‘So I could have asked you out at Hogwarts, then,’ Draco said, sounding a little disappointed at having missed the opportunity.

Hermione nodded. ‘You could have done but you didn’t, so yet again it’s water under the bridge. At least we finally got there.’

She couldn’t help thinking about how things might have been had Draco asked her out earlier, or even if he just hadn’t kissed those blondes he was so fond of. If he had only waited until Ron had finished kissing her . . . but no, he thought Ron was her boyfriend so of course he hadn’t waited.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Draco asked.

‘Just that if you hadn’t gone off with your blondes I would have been able to kiss you once I escaped from Ron, but you were always otherwise engaged. I guess you weren’t really too bothered.’

‘I thought Weasley was your boyfriend so I didn’t know you would stop after one kiss,’ Draco pointed out. ‘I was angry and jealous . . . anyway, why should I spend the night alone?’

‘Instead, _I_ went home alone and unhappy,’ Hermione said trying to keep the old pain that had suddenly gripped her heart from showing in her voice.

Draco looked surprised. ‘I thought you stayed here at the party with your friends.’

‘What on earth made you think that? You knew how little I was enjoying it. I couldn’t wait to get out, especially—’ Hermione’s heart twinged again and she went quiet.

‘I just assumed,’ Draco admitted with a shrug. ‘As I said, jealous and angry, so I wasn’t really thinking straight. I’m sorry.’

Hermione saw him shiver. She wasn’t really surprised. Although she was fine in her thick jumper and boots, Draco was dressed more for indoors than out here and the snow was now coming down steadily, the garden already a sea of white.

‘Perhaps we should go back inside. It’s snowing quite badly now,’ Hermione said.

‘I’m okay if you’d rather stay out here,’ Draco offered gallantly.

Hermione shook her head. ‘You’ll freeze to death dressed like that. Anyway, it sounds like the celebrations are over so we should be safe to go back in.’

Draco stood up and held out his hand to help Hermione up, then he wrapped his arms around her to give her one last magnificent kiss.

‘Let’s go and say Happy New Year to our friends, then,’ he said with a smile.

They walked back towards the house, holding hands. Hermione wasn’t at all surprised to see that the smokers were still there — their desperation or dedication driving them to brave the worsening weather — but everyone else had long since retreated inside the house.

‘There you are. I thought you’d both frozen to death or something,’ Blaise said as Draco and Hermione joined him in the kitchen.

He handed Draco a glass of champagne, then gave one to Hermione. The redhead keeping him company looked Hermione up and down, critically assessing her. Hermione ignored her and thanked Blaise for the drink.

‘Success, I take it?’ Blaise asked with a huge grin plastered across his face. He had spotted the couple holding hands.

Draco grinned back. ‘Definitely!’ He raised his glass. ‘Happy New Year, everyone!’

Hermione raised her glass, as did Blaise and his friend, and they all returned the toast.

‘I’d better go and find the others,’ Hermione said after she had taken a sip of her champagne.

Draco looked disappointed. ‘You don’t want me to come with you?’ He let go of her hand.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then took hold of his hand again. ‘Sorry, I said that wrong, didn’t I? I meant _we_ , not me.’ She bit her bottom lip nervously. ‘If you want to, that is.’

‘Of course I do,’ Draco said pulling her towards him. Their lips met briefly as they gazed at each other.

‘Come on then,’ Hermione prompted, and with a wave of her glass at Blaise to say farewell, she led Draco through to the lounge.

‘Do you want to dance?’ Draco asked, the loud music making conversation difficult, as ever.

Hermione shook her head and leant in close to talk in his ear.

‘I thought we might go elsewhere after we’ve spoken to the others. I’d rather be alone with you than with everyone else at this terrible party and it’s far too cold to sit outside all night.’

Draco said, ‘We could go back to my place, but then we’d risk Blaise and Isabel joining us.’

‘It’s all right, we can go to mine . . . if you want.’

Although Hermione would have loved to finally see his flat, she didn’t like the idea of being disturbed. She wanted Draco all to herself, for tonight, anyway. She was a little surprised that she was being so forward, though.

‘Of course I want,’ Draco said, sounding ecstatic. ‘I’ve never wanted anything more.’

Hermione smiled. ‘Let’s go and get the new year’s greetings over and done with, then.’

‘Oh ho, now we know where _you_ got to,’ Seamus said gleefully as the couple joined the Auror boys and their girlfriends. He moved away from the woman he was standing with to hug Hermione. ‘Happy New Year, Hermione.’ He kissed her cheek.

‘Are you sure you want Malfoy?’ Dean asked as they embraced. Hermione nodded. Dean considered for a moment, then smiled. ‘Yeah, I think he’ll be all right.’

Hermione chuckled. ‘Thanks for the approval.’

Dean grinned and released her so she could continue round the group.

‘Happy New Year, Ernie,’ Hermione said as he swept her up into a hug, planting a kiss on her lips before she could stop him. ‘Keep away from that Sambucca or you’re going to kill yourself.’

She moved towards Ron somewhat warily, knowing his ongoing dislike for her new boyfriend. He scowled at her, then glared at Draco, but once she was close enough he wrapped his arms around her and gave her one of his massive bear hugs.

‘Malfoy?’ he asked, sounding dismayed.

Hermione nodded, slightly tense as she waited for the explosion from her quite clearly drunk friend.

He sighed heavily and released his grip on her a little, looking Draco in the eyes over her shoulder. ‘You hurt her and I’m going to kill you, Malfoy.’

‘I would expect nothing less, Weasley, but you don’t need to worry about that,’ Draco told him with a faint smile. He held out his hand.

Ron hugged Hermione once more and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then, releasing her completely, he moved to take Draco’s hand in his, squeezing hard as he shook it. The two men stared at each other, then Ron looked at Hermione again. She was watching anxiously, her gaze split between worry for Draco and the need for approval from Ron. Ron’s mouth twitched into a grin and he nodded.

‘You’ll do,’ he said, then released Draco’s hand.

Hermione realised she had been holding her breath. She felt an arm slide around her shoulder and turned to see Ginny.

‘See, it was worth coming to the party after all, wasn’t it?’ she said.

Hermione nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

‘You can thank me later,’ Ginny told her. ‘Some of those amazing chocolates wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘I’ll definitely get you a box,’ Hermione promised her. ‘And some singing lessons as well!’

Ginny chuckled her eyes glinting wickedly. ‘I’m not really that bad at singing, but I do know how to annoy people.’

‘That you do,’ Hermione agreed amiably.

Harry had joined them now and stood in front of Hermione. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

He patted her back soothingly. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

Hermione stared at him, her eyes full of tears. ‘Yes, you did. I know you too well, Harry Potter.’

He grinned and then leant forward and kissed her on the forehead.

‘I just hope it works out the way you want.’

‘It will,’ Hermione assured him. ‘Everything is going to be perfect.’

Finally free of her friends, she returned to Draco, who wrapped his arms around her waist, looking at her in a way that made Hermione’s heart race.

‘Shall we go then?’ she asked him.

‘In a minute.’ He pulled her towards him, his lips finding hers, as Hermione wrapped her arms around him in return.

‘For Merlin’s sake, get a room!’ Ron said laughingly, although there was still more than a hint of disapproval in his expression.

‘Don’t worry, we’re leaving,’ Hermione told him. ‘What happened to Hannah and Neville?’

Ron shrugged. ‘No idea. Haven’t seen them for ages.’

‘They also needed to get a room,’ Dean said.

‘Ah well, I expect I’ll catch up with them at some point. I congratulated them on the engagement anyway, that was the important thing. See you guys later.’

Once again holding Draco’s hand, Hermione followed him out of the room, along the hallway still full of drunk people, and out of the house, past the wall of smoke that still hung in the cold night air even as the snow descended in swift flurries. When they were on the pavement, Hermione turned to look back at the house.

‘I think I’m going to miss this place.’

‘Definitely better than staying at home in your pyjamas and reading a book, eh?’ Draco suggested with a glint in his eye.

Hermione turned to stare at him.

He shrugged. ‘I was in the lounge, keeping close to your friends, trying to work out when you were going to turn up, and I heard Potter say you weren’t coming, that you had decided to stay at home for the evening.’ Draco chuckled. ‘Afterwards, he told me that I looked so disappointed at the news that he sent his girlfriend to go and get you. I didn’t think she would succeed, knowing what you’re like when you get near a book, but Potter said she is very persuasive.’

Hermione laughed and took his arm as the two of them walked through the glistening snow towards her flat.

‘Ginny really is. She made herself at home, criticised my lack of decorations . . . and my pyjamas, come to think of it. She drank my wine, ate my chocolates and then started singing Christmas songs really badly until she drove me mad. I came out just to get away from her.’

‘Well, I’m extremely glad she did,’ Draco said, smiling.

Hermione smiled back at him. ‘So am I. Now, let’s go home.’

‘Looking at this weather, I think we might end up being snowed in for a few days,’ Draco said, glancing up at the sky, lowering and grey.

‘If that happens I’m sure we’ll survive,’ Hermione answered.

Draco wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed her. ‘I’m sure we will . . . and I’m looking forward to it.’ He kissed her.

‘Come on, let’s go. However beautiful it is, it’s still cold out here,’ Hermione told him.

‘I think this is going to be a very good year,’ Draco said as they turned into Hermione’s road.

‘I think you might be right,’ Hermione said with a happy smile as she leant into him. ‘Happy New Year, Draco.’


End file.
